Shōgun полностью

If anyone can get us through the mountains, he can.

There was another burst of cheering as Toranaga ordered saké to be brought, ending the formal meeting.

Omi drank his saké and watched Blackthorne drain another cup, his kimono neat, swords correct, Mariko still talking. You’ve changed very much, Anjin-san, since that first day, he thought contentedly. Many of your alien ideas are still set firm, but you’re almost becoming civilized—

“What’s the matter, Omi-san?”

“Nothing—nothing, Buntaro-san . . .”

“You looked as though an eta had shoved his buttocks in your face.”

“Nothing like that—not at all! Eeeee, just the opposite. I had the beginnings of an idea. Drink up! Hey, Peach-Blossom, bring more saké, my Lord Buntaro’s cup is empty!”

“I am instructed to inquire if Kiku-san would be free this evening,” Mariko said.

“Oh, so sorry, Lady Toda, but I’m not sure,” Gyoko, the Mama-san, said ingratiatingly. “May I ask if the honored client would require Lady Kiku for the evening or part of it, or perhaps until tomorrow, if she’s not already engaged?”

The Mama-san was a tall, elegant woman in her early fifties with a lovely smile. But she drank too much saké, her heart was an abacus, and she possessed a nose that could smell a single piece of silver from fifty ri.

The two women were in an eight-mat room adjoining Toranaga’s private quarters. It had been set aside for Mariko, and overlooked, on the other side, a small garden which was enclosed by the first of the inner wall defenses. It was raining again and the droplets sparkled in the flares.

Mariko said genteelly, “That would be a matter for the client to decide. Perhaps an arrangement could be made now which would cover every eventuality.”

“So sorry, please excuse me that I don’t know her availability at once. She’s so sought after, Lady Toda. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh, yes, of course. We’re really very fortunate to have such a lady of quality here in Anjiro.” Mariko had accented the “Anjiro.” She had sent for Gyoko instead of visiting her, as she might possibly have done. And when the woman had arrived, just late enough to make a distinct point, but not enough to be rude, Mariko had been glad of the opportunity to lock horns with so worthy an adversary.

“Was the Tea House damaged very much?” she asked.

“No, fortunately, apart from some valuable pottery and clothes, though it will cost a small fortune to repair the roof and resettle the garden. It’s always so expensive to get things done quickly, don’t you find?”

“Yes. It’s very trying. In Yedo, Mishima, or even in this village.”

“It’s so important to have tranquil surroundings, neh? Would the client perhaps honor us at the Tea House? Or would he wish Kiku-san to visit him here, if she is available?”

Mariko pursed her lips, thinking. “The Tea House.”

“Ah, so desu!” The Mama-san’s real name was Heiko-ichi—First Daughter of the Wall Maker. Her father and his before him had been specialists in making garden walls. For many years she had been a courtesan in Mishima, the capital of Izu, attaining Second Class Rank. But the gods had smiled upon her and, with gifts from her patron, coupled with an astute business sense, she had made enough money to buy her own contract in good time, and so become a manager of ladies with a Tea House of her own when she was no longer sought after for the fine body and saucy wit with which the gods had endowed her. Now she called herself Gyoko-san, Lady Luck. When she was a fledgling courtesan of fourteen, she had been given the name Tsukaiko—Lady Snake Charmer. Her owner had explained to her that that special part of man could be likened to a snake, that a snake was lucky, and if she could become a snake charmer in that sense, then she would be hugely successful. Also the name would make clients laugh, and laughter was essential to this business. Gyoko had never forgotten about laughter. “Saké, Gyoko-san?”

“Thank you, yes, thank you, Lady Toda.”

The maid poured. Then Mariko dismissed her.

They drank silently for a moment. Mariko refilled the cups.

“Such lovely pottery. So elegant,” Gyoko said.

“It’s very poor. I’m so sorry we have to use it.”

“If I can make her available, would five koban be acceptable?” A koban was a gold coin that weighed eighteen grams. One koban equaled three koku of rice.

“So sorry, perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. I didn’t wish to buy all the Tea House in Mishima, only the lady’s services for an evening.”

Gyoko laughed. “Ah, Lady Toda, your reputation is well merited. But may I point out that Kiku-san is of the First Class Rank. The Guild gave her that honor last year.”

“True, and I’m sure that rank is merited. But that was in Mishima. Even in Kyoto—but of course you were making a joke, so sorry.”